


Saying It Out Loud is Hard

by zhedang



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Christmas, Domestic, Ereri Secret Santa 2015, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-24
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2018-05-08 20:31:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5512193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zhedang/pseuds/zhedang
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The military was Levi's life for years, but never what he needed. This here with Eren-- the quiet, the couch that was really too small for two grown men to share, the smile tugging at the corner of Eren's mouth-- is the life he needed all along.</p><p>A quick oneshot about Levi pining his heart out on Christmas Eve.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Saying It Out Loud is Hard

**Author's Note:**

> This is an ereri secret santa gift for tumblr user 2000mistymornings. The request was for something inspired by a song. I'm usually not particularly inspired by music, but when I heard the live, acoustic recording of Sufjan Stevens' "Futile Devices," an image immediately came to mind.

_Saying It Out Loud is Hard_ **[(►♫)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x2dNTjE6ItI)**

Eren is almost done with Armin's hat. Levi could be wrong though, since he knows jackshit about crocheting. He missed the beginning stages, back when Eren still needed to stop frequently to review instruction and correct himself. By the time Levi had been shipped back to the states, Eren already had the motions down to muscle memory, the steps firmly embedded in his mind. So Levi can only watch as Eren crochets, somewhat mesmerized as a scarf or glove or whatever slowly takes shape. His fingers are thick and hardened by labor-- more suited to digging a ditch or dissembling a gun than needlework-- but they move fluidly in fine motions that Levi is half convinced must be some form of witchcraft.

He picked up the hobby on Armin's advice. It's calming. Something to distract himself with, something to keep his head and hands occupied. That was how he explained it when Levi first spotted a ball of yarn and a misshapen, half-finished doily in the periphery of Eren's webcam. Eren's tone bordered on defensive, nervous that Levi would give him shit about crocheting. As if Levi could ever hassle Eren over something that helped. And it clearly does help Eren, but Levi turns Eren down each time he offers to teach him.

Watching Eren work is more than enough balm for his mind.

The movie is still playing on the TV screen. Levi thinks it must be heading into the final climax since the soundtrack has begun to boom dramatically, but he's long last track of the story. People had definitely been talking to each other and he was fairly certain there was a car chase at some point. Levi has spent most of the last two hours peering at Eren, following his finger's quick movements and watching as the screen's colors shifted over his skin.

He's sat on this couch with Eren and watched more movies than he count, but he barely remembers any of their plots. What he remembers from them instead is how close Eren sat, the occasional brushes between their bodies, the smiles and laughs and nail-biting and tears the films drew from Eren, which movies kept Eren on the edge of his seat and which ones made him nod off, head sinking down onto Levi's shoulder. Those were always the best movies. They trade off on who gets to pick the film and Eren has yet to pick up on the fact that the period dramas and political biopics Levi favors bore Levi just as much as they bore him.

Levi's eyelids are heavy now, but it is due to the late hour rather than a slow story. He knows should leave soon. He shouldn't have stayed so long in the first place. But Eren's lumpy, secondhand couch is too comfortable. The soft sounds Eren makes-- his steady breathing, his clothes rustling as he shifts position, the words he sometimes murmers-- are too soothing.

There's no place that feels safer to Levi than Eren's apartment. Or, rather, no place he feels safer than with Eren. But he's playing a very dangerous game. The more he stays, the more he imagines never leaving.

"Are you sure you don't want to come with me to Mikasa's?"

Levi blinks out of his trance-like slumber. Eren's looking at him instead of the TV. The credits are rolling and he's putting his crocheting things back into their bag. Levi's throat is a little thick with sleep, so he clears it. "Yeah."

"You're positive?" Eren presses.

 _No_. Levi scrubs at his drowsy eyes, quelling the misplaced irritation that curdles in his gut. Eren's been asking the same question for weeks and he's yet to be satisfied with Levi's answer. "Yes, for fuck's sake," he says, kicking lightly at Eren's nearest thigh with his socked foot. "I don't want to intrude."

Eren lays his hand on Levi's ankle, fingers pressed against the bony part of the joint. The touch makes Levi stiffen a bit, even as muted as it is through the thick fabric of the crocheted sock. "Wouldn't be intruding, man. You're practically family."

Levi throat is thick again. He should be used to this by now. He thinks of Eren as family too, of course-- closest thing he's got anymore, at least. When his last contract ended and he declined re-enlistment, he never once considered trying to make a home anywhere besides where Eren was. After all, what other home did he have? The military was Levi's life for years, but never what he needed. This here with Eren-- the quiet, the couch that was really too small for two grown men to share, the smile tugging at the corner of Eren's mouth-- is the life he needed all along.

Eren takes his silence for stubbornness. "Fine," he says, patting Levi's ankle once and then removing his hand. "Stay here then." He leans over the arm of the couch to toss the crocheting bag over towards his suitcase, already packed up for tomorrow's short road trip. "I'll feel bad for missing your birthday though. You really want to inflict that kind of guilt on me?"

"What are you talking about?" Levi grumbles. He punches the stiff, scratchy couch pillow under his head into a somewhat less offensive shape. He's going to end up asking for a real pillow before long, but he wants to put off the inevitable. Besides, there's still a chance that he'll find it within himself to leave and sleep in his own apartment, slim as that chance may be. "We did my birthday today."

"Not anything special though," Eren says. His eyes are practically shining with sincerity. Levi has to look away and stare at the still glowing TV screen instead.

Eren doesn't seem to understand that Levi will never be able to take simply seeing Eren for granted. But since Levi has not yet explained to Eren that he memorized his face long ago-- fearing he'd never see it grinning or smirking or frowning again-- he can't hold it against Eren that he doesn't get it.

(He remembers every moment of that day keenly, the day Eren was transferred out. Of course he remembers; he'd been certain he'd never see him again, never even speak to him. So he remembers the freckles across Eren's nose, the sharp lines of his jaw, the sun burn peeling on the back of his neck and tips of his ears, his almost-too-long hair that bordered on an infraction. He remembers Eren's offhand promise to stay in touch and thinking that Eren would instead promptly forget about him once he was no longer in sight. Even though he no longer needs to cling to this memory so tightly, he still remembers.)

Sometimes, he thinks that Eren might listen if he explained it all. Sometimes, he entertains the hope that if he explained, Eren would not only understand but also confess that he felt the same way. After all, Eren had kept that promise. He'd been the one who sent the first email after leaving Levi's company. He'd been the one who wrote regularly-- every three days like clockwork and a snail mail letter once ever two weeks. _For years._ The only interruption had been when Eren was lying unconscious in a hospital. The sudden lapse worn Levi's nerves thin.

From the very first day they met, Eren had been the one to do the heavy lifting require to turn their casual camaraderie into actual relationship and then into... whatever it was they had now. Levi had always written back whenever he could, had always tried to follow Eren's lead into deepening their relationship, but he'd rarely had the guts to make any of his own moves. He'd spent nearly half his life in the army and he was still a goddamn coward.

That's why, even when he dares to imagine, he never explains. Saying it out loud is hard, so he doesn't say anything at all.

Instead of explaining, he says, "I'm thirty-five," I don't need a big fucking production." It has the benefit of being true, but it's clearly not enough to satisfy Eren. Levi knows from the way Eren's brows pinch together ever so slightly, from the way he sees Eren's chest move wth a sigh to quiet for his ears to hear. He decides he is willing to concede a little ground. "If you want to do something special, then play me a song."

Eren scowls a little, embarrassed as always to be called on to perform, but Levi knows that his request has pleased him anyway. With a grunt, Eren gets up. He took off his prosthetic hours ago, so he hops the few feet to the guitar stand to retrieve the instrument. He holds it carefully as he comes back to the couch, though he flings himself back down onto the cushions with no care at all. Levi leans against the couch to watch as Eren prepares himself, settling the guitar atop his stump and plucking at its strings to check the tuning.

The guitar is Mikasa’s contribution to Eren’s recovery. Something he could practice from his bed or chair. Apparently Mikasa had tried to teach him to play when they were kids, but Eren lacked the focus. Getting him to sit still long enough to practice chords wasn't an issue while he was healing though, or so Eren had explained with a self-deprecating slant to his lips.

Once Eren is satisfied with the the tuning, he asks, “Anything in particular? Don't got much of a repertoire though.”

“Whatever is fine,” Levi says, letting his head drop back down onto the couch pillow. Eren thinks for a moment, fingers plucking out a simple chord. Levi closes his eyes. The vibration of the metal strings buzzing underneath Eren's fingers travels through the air, feeling almost like a caress in the otherwise still apartment. After a while, Eren shifts from the chord to _Silent Night_ and Levi can't help but snort.

“Shut up,” Eren laughs, though he keeps playing. “Most of what I know is Christmas music.”

“Not complaining,” Levi mutters into the pillow. His eyes stay shut, concentrating on the raspy sounds Eren's fingers make as they slide against the guitar strings.

The very first time Eren played for him, Skyping from Mikasa's guest room and still too pale, it'd been Christmas music as well. _Joy to the World. The First Noel. Angels We Have Heard on High._ All simple versions Mikasa taught him to distract him from the pain and keep him occupied as he rested up between surgeries and PT sessions.

Levi barely heard the music though. It'd been the first time Eren had Skyped him since Levi got the news about his leg from Armin and so Levi spent the video call searching Eren's face for everything he hadn't said in his emails. How was he really doing? Was he furious? Scared? Did he need to see Levi the same way Levi needed to see him?

Levi had thought about leaving the army before, but it'd always been idle thoughts. Hypothetical. Leaving was easier said than done, after all, and once Levi was out there was the matter of Levi's lack of other marketable skills, the difficulties he'd likely face trying to reintegrate back into civilian life, and the fact that Levi had no one waiting for him on the other side.

But once Eren was out— forcibly, literally blown out against his will, completely shipped back home except for the flesh, blood, and bone he left behind on some dusty road— Levi realized he no longer had any reason to stay in. Except, of course, for his contract. It'd been hell to wait the thing out, aching the entire time to go see Eren, to be at his side while he recovered. That duty fell to Mikasa and Armin, however. By the time Levi was let go, Eren was back on his feet and it was Levi who needed help coping with his traumas.

If Eren found it strange at all that Levi came straight to him upon leaving the army, he didn't ask about it. And Levi didn't tell.

Armin knows everything, Levi thinks. He'd gotten that feeling from the short emails he'd sent while Eren was still in the hospital. Somewhere in between the words updating Levi on Eren's condition, there was an innate understanding of why Levi needed these updates. Mikasa suspects, he is sure. He's only seen her when Eren waved her into view of his webcam so he could introduce the two of them. But she'd narrowed her eyes at Levi, sizing up his pixelated image. He's certain she read his feelings right off his face in that brief moment.

He can't decide whether he hopes Eren knows or not. Levi can't decide which option would be better. Or worse.

Eren's playing lulls him to sleep again and when Levi wakes once more it's because Eren is replacing the pillow under his head with a softer one. Levi remains still, trying to keep his breathing slow and regular. He feels Eren leaning over him to drape a blanket across his body and his heart races despite himself.

“Levi,” Eren says softly. Levi hides his face against the pillow, burrowing into it and trying to make the movement look natural. Eren chuckles. “I know you're awake.”

“M'not.”

Eren pats him on the shoulder, hand lingering there. Levi feels the weight of it through the blanket and presses his face deeper into the pillow. “You really wouldn't be intruding, you know,” he says, picking up the conversation as though it hadn't already been dropped over an hour ago. “Mikasa wants to meet you properly. Armin too.”

This is cheating, Levi thinks. Asking him when he is sleepy and warm and feeling so safe.

“And I'd really like it if you came,” Eren continues. “I want to spend Christmas with— it'd mean a lot to me.”

The tiny hesitation is little more than a moment, but it is enough to make Levi's heart rattle against his rib cage. Breathing is becoming difficult, but Levi keeps his face hidden. _I want to spend Christmas with—_ Levi doesn't know how the sentence was supposed to end. A dozen possibilities fly through his head, but they quickly stop when he realizes that it doesn't matter. He's going to give in no matter what.

“Have to get up earlier,” Levi says. He speaks into the pillow, words muffled but still audible. “So I can pack.”

Eren is quiet and eventually Levi can no longer resist turning his head to peer up at him. Eren's smile is radiant in the dark. He claps Levi on the shoulder again, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Best get to sleep then,” he says, straightening up to head to bed himself.

“That's what I've been trying to do,” Levi grumbles.

Eren laughs. His fingers card through Levi's hair for a moment-- just a moment, so short it might've been an accident-- and Levi turns his face away again.

Saying it out loud is hard. But saying nothing at all isn't any easier.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm going to look at this tomorrow and see five million errors, aren't I...


End file.
